


Billy in Red

by Elmbird



Series: How to Shape a Heart [2]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Blow Jobs, Communication, Dirty Dictionary, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, Eventual Smut, Excessive Lube, Explicit Sexual Content, Gay Billy Hargrove, Hand Jobs, Kinks, Lipstick & Lip Gloss, M/M, Object Insertion, Period Typical Attitudes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:00:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25158895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elmbird/pseuds/Elmbird
Summary: -------Billy still has the marbled light green tube in the pocket of his jean jacket. Part of him wants to crush it under the heel of his boot, to see red squish out between cracked green plastic and hear the sound it makes as it brakes apart. Has thought about grinding the lipstick into the asphalt more than a few times, bits of gravel and grit tainting it. The other part of him can't let it go.Can be read as part of the series or as a stand alone.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Series: How to Shape a Heart [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1757791
Comments: 14
Kudos: 84





	1. Billy in Red

**Author's Note:**

> Hi Y'all
> 
> I love a good lipstick fic and finally got around to working on one. As always please read the tags. This story is really about Billy and Steve learning to communicate their needs but it will go heavy on the smut in future chapters. Takes place the Summer after they graduate high school. Like most my stories I take elements from season three but treat the whole Upside Down happenings from just that season... well like they didn't happen. I prefer an un-flayed Billy. 
> 
> This fiction is going into my 'How to Shape a Heart' series. Basically you can read it as stand alone piece or it's written in a way that if you'd like it to connect to other stories of mine it can. Think of it like a 'choose your own adventure.'

The room is how Billy remembers is from last weekend; ballerina pink, teal green and white wicker. His eyes narrow, it smells like teenage girl, not a smell that he’s ever liked. His wide shoulders and thick build takes up space in the overly decorated room, with all its obnoxious frills. The small shopping bag that had been knocked to the floor by Steve and him hiding out and getting handsy last weekend now sits on the wicker nightstand, the shopping receipt next to it telling a tale.

Becky must have torn her room apart looking for _it,_ blamed herself, blamed the saleswoman behind the counter and then moved on to chew out her little sister. Something like that, anyways, Billy imagines but not really caring.

He’s playing a game with himself, a kind of chicken. Could have just thrown it away but bringing it back might get him closer to it never having happened in the first place. A lapse of judgment erased.

For something so small it takes up all the air in the room, sits like a brick in the palm of his hand. He should throw it on the floor, be done with it but despite of its weight he is having trouble letting go of it.

Eyeing the crumpled receipt tells Billy that Becky bought more than one lipstick. The other must be that strawberry shit that is on both her mouth and the rim of her blue plastic beer cup. Looked like she’d been getting hot and heavy with the thing.

The sound of muffled music from the party downstairs becomes clear with the abrupt opening of the bedroom door. His head snaps that direction, dagger earring swinging.Steve comes stumbling into the room with the sound of Lionel Richie trailing after him.

Billy is caught out, red fucking handed. Red lipstick, _Red Rush_. His blood goes speeding through his body, heart pumping it like he is a solid twenty minutes into basketball practice. A mean sneer threatens to work its way onto his face. Fist closes tight.

Steve’s face holds its easy boy next door smile as he shut the door and leans against it, beer in one hand, arms crossed. He wears a lightweight jacket with shorts. Real preppy, but still Billy likes it. Always likes getting a good look at his legs.

“What do you have there?” Steve nods at Billy’s closed fist, eyebrows raised in a question, voice amused, because he knows he has caught Billy up to something. They have gotten to a point where they can read each other well enough now. For better or worse.

Billy always runs hot but he’s about to boil, heat surging through his body. He silently cruses himself for not moving faster, for that final hesitation. If he had been able to put it back he would never mentioned it, treated it like it never happened but now that he’s caught he’s not about to lie. There is no honor in lying. Rather take this like a man than be a quivering pansy about it. His fist tightens before opening his hand up and holding it out.

Show and fucking tell.

Only he has no idea what he’s going to say to pretty boy.

He should have thrown the fucking thing away. This is the first time Billy’s had a case of;should of, would of, could of, since his mom left and he went around blaming himself, rolling around in self pity that still reeks pathetic. 

Steve takes a couple steps forwards, eyes questioning. Billy can see the moment he realizes what the green tube is and then the confusion as to why Billy has it, followed by more questions. He sets his beer can down like he knows things are about to get serious, it clicks on the glass topped whicker nightstand.

“Is that lipstick?” He asks sounding completely puzzled.

“I was putting it back.” He shoots off before Steve gets to actually asking anything. His tone is challenging and he doesn’t fucking care. Heat and frustration building because the answers that Steve is going to want, Billy isn’t going have for him because he does have them for himself.

“Yeah, sure… yeah… but wait putting it back….” Steve slowly strings the words together as he weaves through his thoughts. Eyebrows furrowed because of the concentration it takes. There are a lot of moving parts, Billy is all too aware of that. “It means you took it.”

Steve’s not the quickest thinker, doesn’t mean he is dumb. Billy chucks it up to his mind having a hard time sorting the information it gets. 

Billy sucks on his teeth before huffing out, “You’re not wrong there, pretty boy.”

“Okay?” Steve runs a hand through his hair while eyeing Billy, giving him a real good once over. “So you wanted it then? And wait - when did you even take it? Last weekend?” He still sounds confused as shit, questions streaming out of his mouth, forehead creased in concern.

Billy is loosing his patience, has no right too but his is. He uncaps the lipstick with a pop and twists it up with aggression he’s having a hard time reining in. He says, while holding it out for Steve to see, “Real pretty color don’t you think?” Snarls out the words, challenging.

Something must have clicked into place or maybe his tone has gotten him pissy because Steve shots back, “For you or me, Billy?”

Fuck if he knows, he doesn’t have an answer for that question, even for himself. He’d pay someone to have an answer for him. Hit up a bank so he could give them top dollar.

Back at the party they had come to a stalemate. Both tight lipped, the energy that hung in the air threatening to throw them into a fight that neither of them wanted. The relationship is good, having found a stride that works for them. That push and pull that makes what they have so satisfying only stays that way so long it is in balance.

_I’m going for a drive, are you coming or not?_

Billy still has the marbled light green tube in the pocket of his jean jacket. Part of him wants to crush it under the heel of his boot, to see the red squish out between cracked green plastic and hear the sound it makes as it brakes apart. Has thought about grinding the lipstick into the asphalt more than a few times, bits of gravel and grit tainting the, _Red Rush_.

Laying eyes on it unfurled something deep inside of him. Something that maybe all the preening and peacocking, has been playing at. The little thrill of self-satisfactions that hits when he looks at himself in the mirror, that part of him that knows - there could be more. Feels like a phantom itch. The curls bouncing in place and cologne rubbed under belt, falling short. The realization had a physical counter part, could feel it, brain lighted up so bright it hurt.

He remembers how the first time eyeing it his pupils dilated and then focused in on the untouched red tip, having never been used, the point pristine. The name for the shade is total shit, _Red Rush_ sounds like what chicks have to deal with once a month. Would of called it, _The_ _Perfect Red_ , few things are perfect but a shade of red that could work just as well for blondes as for brunettes is hard to come by. Billy thinks - like he knows.

He salivated over the delicate nature of the tube that houses the actual lipstick itself. Everything about it a thousand times more appealing because he shouldn’t want it. He’s taste this flavor of want before, it has a name, Steve Harrington.

Then he had to think of what Steve would look like in a color that bold. What he would look like with it smeared, making a mess of his mouth. That image let his mind slip slide into dirty thoughts.

At first Billy had thought about blaming this all on Joan Harrington. Hated people who passed the buck but for a second he was guilty of wanting to forget and lay blame.

As the Harrington’s divorce was getting closer to being finalized Steve’s mom wanted a vast majority of the shit she bought while married donated. Winning points with Joan didn’t seem like a such bad idea, she knows about Steve and him after all. Has been nothing but polite to him, the classy lady that she it. Billy remembers his manners around her, keeps his taste level up and keeps away from full on flirting with her. Flirting with moms had always been an ego boost. He is sure it doesn’t hurt their egos either, no harm, no foul. 

His eyes had kept being drawn to her neatly organized vanity, would take a box down to the donation truck, come back up stairs to the bedroom for another but would stop to stare, eyeing the perfume bottles, powders and creams, lipsticks lined up in a row. Made him want to go home, line up his hair products and half used bottles of cologne, made him want more while realizing how sad and pathetic his little set up really was. Juvenile.

When Steve wasn’t in the room he had walked over to the vanity with fake disinterest that was for no one but himself, mirror showing him his approach. He’d reached out slow like all the things might be holding a heat hot enough to burn his meaty finger tips. Insides turned over while thoughts raged, was hard to keep the self mocking at bay. Went through the half dozen lipsticks, turning them over, reading the names from under hooded eyes, _Summer Peach, Lady of the Day, Roses for Rosie…_ would uncap them to see their shade. Nameless want gnawing inside of him. There was a true red, not classy, more daring and bold, the name _Vixen,_ barely used, possibly had only ever been tried on in front of the mirror but never worn outside of the room. Billy wondered if Joan would miss it. He figured she bought it for herself in a moment of wishing she was some other type of women but then couldn’t bring herself to wear it for whatever reason. Maybe too scared of what she really wanted. And there he had been judging her and what did he even want? What in the hell was he doing? He had put it back like it burned his fingers.

Billy was going to leave whatever curiosity had been kicked up by that day in the dark. Screw shedding light on something like that. A fine mixture of shame and the unknown making him step back. Shame and him have a long standing relationship, either makes him hit twice as hard, twice as mean, or makes him shift into the shadows of self loathing.

Forced the day from his mind, leaned into the end of summer and making the most of it with Steve. Hadn’t thought about it, not really, for a few weeks. Then five beers in at Becky’s house party, the first of two parties while her parents were out of town from weekend to weekend, and he needed to feel Steve up. They are careful about that sort of thing, getting handsy, drunken make outs, always do it as far away from the heart of the party as possible and always behind a locked door.

The sloppy blow job from Steve in Becky’s bedroom had been extra satisfying, she still likes to sniff around him like a bitch in heat. That taste of irritated jealousy that her sniffing gave Billy that night was quickly put down by Steve on his knees for him, in her room. Made sure to rock deep, got Steve gaging and moaning, mouth and throat working hard. He wasn’t particularly careful about getting all his come in pretty boy’s eager mouth either. Made sure to get a little jizz on the carpet too. Afterward he had rubbed it in with the toe of his boot while he lit a smoke.

He had left his pack of smokes in her room and went back to looks for them, that’s when he caught sight of the small light green tube. It lay forgotten, on the carpet, peaking out from under the pink bedskirt, small shopping bag next to it. He knew what it was right away, expensive lipstick, the kind that came from a department store not the drugstore, didn’t need the bag to to tell him that. A distinctive faux springtime green marbling with a raised C on one end, he ran the tip of a finger over it.

The surge of some unknown emotion tainted with desire made him pocket it like a a kid pockets candy at the story. While his mind labeled it forbidden fruit.

The tiny little tube of lipstick, an unwanted treasure, one he kept hidden, pulled it out to study both it and the reaction it got out of him. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

Billy is defensive and Steve’s not so thick that he can’t figure out that it’s because the lipstick means something to him. If it didn’t matter the blonde wouldn’t care.

Lipstick is meant to be worn - which means - Billy wants him to wear it?

Or could Billy be the one - Steve has no idea. He might have a clue if the blue eyed boy wasn’t avoiding his gaze.

Steve turns in the passenger seat to face Billy and gestures towards himself with both hands, “You know, I’m right here. You could talk to me.”

Billy’s strong jaw works, eyes squint for a second but he keeps leering out the window at absolute nothing.

Steve feels like he could tear the hair out of his own head. Billy has always been good at running his mouth, only clams up like this when it’s serious. He has to know that Steve knows this about him which makes his silence a hundred times more irritating. “Or you know what - don’t. Don’t talk to me that’s perfectly fine too, Hargrove.” 

Steve slams the car door, is angry but doesn’t actually want to leave and go into his house without Billy. They drove around for awhile and then came back to Steve’s, having spent the last twenty minutes sitting in the Camaro not talking to each other. It’s dumb is it what it is. He kicks at the ground once, mind whirling, all he wants to do is talk to Billy about it, get some clue as to what’s going on in that thick skull of his. Jesus, is that such a bad thing to want?

Steve jangles his house keys in the pocket of his lightweight jacket, comes around the front of the car to stand in Billy’s line of sight. The blonde turns his head to the side, glare still angry but Steve can read that the angry isn’t directed at him.He sits oh the hood of the Camaro, shorts riding up, skin touching metal, knows Billy could start the car and back up, landing him on his ass but he kind of doesn’t care. He’s not getting back into that silent car or going inside, leaving Billy to think he’s been left.

It is dark out but the porch light reaches where they are, warm light keeping the night at bay. No one is home but Steve always leaves a couple lights on inside too, didn’t need to before the Upside Down but now it’s a thing he has to do. Mind won’t leave him alone if he doesn’t. When his mom is home she avoids mentioning it but must have some idea because she’ll leave the light on in the entryway and the upstairs hallway, the same two that he does. The lights on in the house filter out through windows to mix with he porch light.

If his dad was ever home he’dgo on and on about the electricity bill. That’s Steve guess anyways, his dad hasn’t been home in months. Even his mom finally called him an ass. Did it over the phone, _Richard, you’re being an ass, you must know that._

The divorce is getting ugly. All his dad’s doing. Grade A asshole. Capitalize the A. 

Tonight was the last big party before every one heads to college, not Billy or him though, just - basically everyone else. Even Tommy made grades good enough to get into an out of state school.

The two of them have their own plans. Makes Steve a little giddy and slightly full of himself, he’ll admit it. When he had talk to Nancy about working for his dad and staying in Hawkins for her, Steve never felt what he feels when he thinks about sharing an apartment in Chicago with Billy. He would brag about their plans to anyone who would listen but he’s learned that’s not something you can really do, when your two guys.

Sometimes Billy brings up the fact that if he was with a girl there wouldn’t be any hiding. Steve hates when he does it, just tells him to shut up. Calls him Hargrove.

This party was suppose to be a good time. Get to be carefree teenagers for one more night. Not that Steve is - Jesus, there is a word for it - like mourning but not - but still kind of is. He doesn’t miss being King but for one night he would have brushed off his crown and had some fun. Let Billy get a peek at the legendary King Steve for one night. Was kind of looking forward to it. If he’s being totally honest.

There are words piling up in Steve’s mind, which is not normal for him. He’s never had a great relationship with vocabulary, not like Nance or Lucas do. Not all of the words are for himself some are for Billy.

The other night one of those words spun around in his head, keeping him awake until at like two in the morning he went hunting around the house for the dictionary.

 _I knew you’d be good for me, so pretty and oh so obedient,_ Billy has purred. He had gone to get a glass of water that's how it started, told Steve to - _Stay, I want you like that when I get back. Not a hair out of place. Got it?_

The _Stay_ had felt like an order. One he wanted to take. So he hadn’t moved, stayed sitting on his bed with his sailor shorts around his ankles, hard-on getting harder as he waited. And he’s never been good at waiting but it was something else all together, added to the ache in his dick.

The sex they’ve been having, maybe it’s too much. It’s -there is something more to it, feels almost like they’re toeing an invisible line. If Steve had an idea of what that something more is he might not feel like it’s too much. The sex is good, it’s loose your mind good and he’s getting lost. Can’t decide if he wants boundaries or to go farther. If he wants Billy to do more than tell him to stay.

 _Obedient_.

In the end he had found a dictionary in his dad’s mostly empty office. With a dry mouth he had turned pages and sounded out the word. Had to remember if the, _i_ came before or after the, _e._

O-B-E-D-I-E-N-T. Submissive to another's will.

Then he had to look up Submissive.

The two words added up together came out to something along the lines of; letting another have control of you.

Steve’s first thought had been, _yes_.

He had gotten a hard-on from reading the dictionary. 

And like that wasn’t complicated enough…

Billy fucking stole lipstick and admitted to it. The guy he is seeing took lipstick from the girl he screwed around with the summer after sophomore year. And Billy won’t even tell Steve why. And maybe he doesn’t know why, that’s fine but at least say that. Cut him some slack.

The lipstick, it’s a sexy red. Billy has sexy red lipstick. His swim trunks are red but that’s comparing apples to oranges, doesn’t matter that Steve gets hot for Billy when he sees him in them. Would Billy with painted red lips get him - - the answer is yes, abdomen muscles jumping let him know right away, tingle of excitement hitting below the belt. Jesus. Curiosity twists in his stomach. But then there is the flip side, maybe it’s not meant for Billy and could Steve do that? 

When he was a kid, he remembers the old movies that use to play on the television. The ones that were filmed in black and white. Slapstick comedies, a lot of those used men dressed as women to get a laugh. Steve had laughed, suddenly it’s not funny and he hates himself a little bit for laughing along even if he was eight and didn’t know any better.

Steve runs a hand though his hair and signs. He throws a look over his shoulder, chancing a glance at Billy, hoping he’s not too obvious about it. Icy blue eyes stake him. Yeah, shit. Billy’s eyes are on him, taps his metal lighter on the steering wheel, now that Steve sees it he realizes he’s been hearing that noise in the background of his thoughts. His ass on the hood of the Camaro is running out of time before it meets the ground. 

Pushing off the car Steve kind of has an idea of what he’s going to do, sort of. He’s still not sure who the lipstick is for and maybe that’s not the problem.

The neighbors on either side are too far down to see the driveway, let alone the house through all the trees. This area has a privacy you won’t find in Loch Nora. Still he looks to the left and then the right, his heart beat takes off as he gets back into the car, feels Billy’s eyes on him, watching his every move.

“Let me see the lipstick.” He says leaning back into the seat with his body partially turned towards Billy.

Hargrove, just scoffs at him, licks over his teeth, gives Steve a judgmental look from under long eyelashes. He’s playing it tough Steve thinks but also could actually kick his ass if he wanted to. It’s an annoying combination but Steve’s not going to get stuck on it or derailed. “Listen, you already showed it to me once, let me see it.”

After a long pause Billy takes it from his jacket pocket and hands it over, “Knock yourself out.” Voice a hard edge.

Steve’s fingers fumble over it, unaccustomed to the shape. He’s seen his mom put on lipstick before but he never thought much of it. Thought more of it when Nancy was doing it but he never watched with any real interest outside of thinking she looked cute, maybe a little sexy while applying the barely there pink.

He turns it over in his hand a couple times and gives a shrug, not to Billy but more to himself.One shoulder raises, while he squints at the tube. Finally uncaps and twists.

It’s just as red as it was in Becky’s bedroom. Shit. 

Yeah, sure, he can do this. He licks his lips and is aware of it in way he never has been. Tries not to feel self-conscious.

The leather seat, groans under him as he scoots forward, reaches out to drop the sun visor down, there is a small mirror. This close it’s almost too small, Steve has to angle his face to be able to see his mouth and catch the light right.

Billy’s eyes are on him like a hawk’s. Something faintly sexual is happening, Steve’s aware of it but can’t focus on that. He’s not sure if this is a sex thing for Billy or if it’s him or something else or or or… 

It glides on easy. The texture is not what he expected but also he didn’t even think about that part of it, that it would have a feeling, would be - smooth.

Or maybe it’s creamy. Looks down at it questioningly for a second like it might give him the answer. Patch of red on his top lip.

Billy’s eye are still on him, the temperature in the car rising.

This makes Steve think of leaning how to color in the lines as a kid. Something he wasn’t too good at. It’s easier to do his bottom lip. When he is finished he does that thing that he’s seen both his mom and Nance do, where they rub their top and bottom lip together, it’s the final touch but he doesn’t understand why just knows that it has to be done.

He leans back into the seat so he can see more of himself in the mirror. 

It’s - _wow._ It’s just, wow.

Had thought lipstick only existed because of women but there it is on his lips just as red. The shade of red is right for him, make him see the shape of his mouth in a way he hasn’t before, clearly defining it. Had he ever really seen or known its shape before? He knows Billy’s, can see its shape when he closes his eyes but clearly not his own. Also does something to his eyes, makes them darker or something.

All those times Billy’s called him, _pretty boy_ …

He puts the lid back on with a click and flips the visor back up. Palms feel a little sweaty, which is gross, but he can’t help it, nervousness is heating him up.

He does a quick glance over at Billy suddenly way more self-conscious than he thought he would be. With the lipstick on his purposefully messy summertime hair seems all the messier. He tucks a rebellious strand behind his ear before turning back to the blonde next to him.

Steve lulls his head back against the headrest and meets the intensity of Billy’s blue eyes. It had seemed like a pretty good idea to begin with but now he’s not so sure, feels like he messed up, instead of breaking the ice which is what he was going for. Made the whole mess more complicate.

 _Longing_. Raw, open, longing in the dim light is clear as day on Billy’s face. That moment that happens when you have something that someone else wants, Wants more than you do, making whatever the hell it is seem that much more important. It’s happing.

The answer is on Steve’s lips. 

The lipstick was never for him.


	2. Steve in Release

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! I'm blushing. I always get a litter nervous posting a smut heavy chapter. Enjoy and mind the tags.

Crickets chirp and the night hums out reminding that summer is ending, that having graduated there is no school to go back to. The choices they make now are done with the freedom of newly awarded adulthood and are so much more damning if the wrong one is made.

The boy sitting next to Billy is worth ten of him. He’s known it for a long time. Equal parts brave and caring makes him a different kind of reckless than Billy is. That recklessness sometimes called selflessness. Max has told him the story about the junk yard, about the old school bus when Steve stepped in front of her, prepared to keep all the shitheads safe, staring down a thousand teeth, bat in hand.

Billy’s been on the receiving end of that selflessness his fair share of times. Has thought about asking why but he’s smarter than that. Doesn’t want to give Steve any ideas that he’s might not be worth it. 

Billy is greedy.

He is so goddamn greedy. Pretty boy in that red hits hard and hot. It should be enough. With his dark eyes and that open look in them. But Billy’s desire goes bone deep and it takes seeing the other boy’s mouth painted red like that, for him to know. It’s not enough because it’s not what he set out to get when he took the lipstick, doesn’t matter that he didn’t know it in the moment.

Billy can’t take his eyes off of Steve, can’t blink, can’t speak because he is this close to combusting. One wrong move and he goes up in flames.

Steve finds his voice before he finds his words. Starts stammering, “I- listen, if you want…”He doesn’t make it very far. Looks down for a second, lets out a huff of breath before he looks back up and starts again. “Do you want me to take it off or like I could - you know help you put it on too. If that’s what you want.” Eyes darting over Billy searching for an answer as he makes the offer.

At the suggestion of Steve painting him up Billy’s brain, heart and dick all weigh in, each having a strong opinion. Electric want flashing through him. Makes his grip on the steering wheel tighten, leather groaning under palms. The picture is too pretty. He want his cake and to eat it too. Devour it then suck his fingers clean. “Leave it on.” 

Burning under Billy’s gaze Steve looks away, eyes casting in the direction of the house. “Do you want to go in?” He asks.

“Yeah.” He sounds hungry to his own ears, revealing every scrap of want. His heart beats hard, pumping desire and uncertainty. The desire out weighs the uncertainty. When the lipstick had first touched pretty boy’s lips it felt like Billy was being touch all over, phantom fingers running over his body.

The house is as empty as it always is. A few lights are left on. It’s a thing for Steve, not having the house completely dark. Billy tosses his jean jacket on the kitchen counter. Metal buttons clicking as it lands in a heap, sounding loud.

“So are you going to put it on for me or what?” Billy asks. Impatience hanging heavy in the air. They stand in shadows at a distance from each other. He’s not sure who’s doing it is or if he’s just imagining that the space between them has happened on purpose. Maybe it is the uncertainty haunting his thoughts.

Steve’s mom calls the bathroom off of the kitchen, the powder room. It’s never been more fitting, couple of _powder puffs_ taking up all the space in the small, dim lit, floral print room. Steve’s backed up to the counter, almost sitting on the white formica. Billy stands between his legs, their hips touching. His fingers playing at the waistband of pretty boy’s shorts, letting them dip in, the feeling of skin a life line.

They’re both semi hard. Neither of them acknowledge it.

Standing this close Billy can see the flecks of gold and green in Steve’s eyes. He has almost as many eyelashes as him but they are half the length.

Steve takes notice of the intensity of his stare. Brings out the boy next door charm and tries for smooth, makes a little joke, “Do I have something on my face?” Eyes have warmth in them just for Billy, searching to see if he has broken the ice that’s formed between them.

The brush of a smile that Billy give is enough. Shots back “You’ve got to stop hanging out with those nerds. You’re loosing all the cool you every had and it a - wasn’t much to start with, Harrington.”

Flicking his gaze over Steve’s shoulder Billy is met with their reflection in the mirror. The back of Steve cutting him off from a full view of himself.

Steve looks down at the green tube in his hand then back up to Billy. He makes a nervous huff of noise that turns into words as he stammers out, “I’m um - yeah, I’m going to start on your top lip?” He sounds like he is questioning his own question. The smoothness from before fading.

The hesitation in Steve’s voice tells Billy he is being given one more out. Tries not to let it fire him up, knows it’s not an accusation of weakness but years of being defensive make it hard to take kindness without thinking there is a catch. He parts his lips and says, “Night’s not getting any younger and neither am I.” The words rumble out of him, he is careful of his tone, Steve doesn’t need to be a casualty of his mood.

Pretty boy’s fingertips catch on the stubble that wasn’t there this morning as he tips Billy’s head the way he wants it, into the light, letting him see more of his own face in the mirror.He watches their refection, watches as Steve’s hand comes up. Stares himself in the eye. Looks into his own fiery vulnerability.

At the first touch of red to Billy’s lips his hands take a firmer hold on Steve’s hips, blunt nails biting into flesh. The feeling of _finally_ pulsing through him, the skull crushing energy from before, slowing to tamed. He is floating, watches what he feels in the mirror, the red smoothly gliding on. Up and down and then back up again, mapping out the defined cupid’s bow of his upper lip. 

A waking dream moving too fast. It’s going too fast, he needs this to last, his hand snaps up, clasping Steve wrist in a firm grip.

“ _Slower_.” His voice sounds like it has been dragged through gravel as he gives the unapologetic order. Billy is aware he is showing his cards. Heckles raise for a second before realizing he trusts placing this need in Steve’s hands, trusts that it won’t be his undoing, not in a way that robs him of himself. This kind of undoing is like waves breaking on the beach. Water bringing him home to the shore.

Steve’s hips give a little buck, rocking their cocks together. “Shit -yeah -okay.”Voice is bone dry for Billy. If this was to happen again Billy might force him to do it while he gives him a hand job. Make Steve start over if he makes a mistake. It makes for a pretty image as it flashed through his mind.

They lean into the friction, rocking, clothed cocks gently rubbing together, both of them fully hard. Steve remembers himself before Billy has to say anything, brings his attention back to the bottom lip and its lack of color.

Billy drops his hand back down, returns to holding onto Steve. Keeps the subdued roll of his hips going, teasing them both but the movement not enough to carry up or interrupt Steve’s slow and deliberate process of stroking red onto his bottom lip. Focus down to a pinpoint, hair falling into his eyes that he doesn’t bother to brush back. This is the kind of focus no school book ever got out of him. Pupils blown. Eyes dark.

Watching pretty boy’s face is exhilarating. Billy is panting for it, the way his dark eyes are taking him in is just as reveling as looking in a mirror. There is _lust_ , in them and none of the other things that Billy had imagined at arms length. Thought about but kept at a distance. No disgust or horror - no loss of -- what’s been built between them.

When Steve is done after a moment of hesitation he steps aside, slides down the counter and sets the capped tube down.

Billy keeps his eyes lowered, still as stone, expect for his chest expanding and contract, breathing hard. He draws a deep breath in through his nose and raises his head, posture challenging, shoulders rolled back. Thinks of a fighting fish when a mirroris put in front of it, wants to be smarter than that. Be smarter than tearing himself apart. 

There he is staring back at himself; four undone buttons worth of bare chest, strong jaw showing stubble, blonde curls made frizzy by summer, alert eyes and slicked up red, red lips. 

What he feels is deep-seated satisfaction washing over him that’s as rich as the pigment of red on his mouth. This moment is both settling and igniting. He has to lean forward, palms smacking on the counter top as he is drawn into his own reflection. Appraises what can only be be described as amped up sex appeal.

The corner of his mouth curling up into a smile, he dazzles himself. Feels good. Gets lost in it for a second, fingers coming up to trace just below the line of color.

“ _Jesus_.” Steve mutters. Billy slides a glance his way. The bulge in pretty boy’s shorts is just plain vulgar. Pulling at the thin fabric, the materiel failing to hind the features of his cock.

They mirror each other with painted red lips, a holy and dirty union. The experience laced with innocence. Two boys painted up like they shouldn’t be but done so with such breathtaking care.

"Come here.”

Steve slides along the counter back still to the mirror. Billy doesn’t hesitate to turn him around, to wrap his arms around his waist and hooks his chin over his shoulder. The mirror acts as a fame, the floral wallpaper behind them a backdrop.

The sheepish smile Steve gives to their refection goes straight to Billy’s heart, lands like an arrow, tip sharp. One hand comes up to covers the one Billy’s got on his stomach, laces their fingers together. “You look-“ Steve swallows hards, eyebrows furrowed taking in the image they make, “You look really good.” The sincerity in his voices matching what is in his expressive pretty eyes.

Billy knows, is floating on a cloud of self satisfaction. He just _mhmms_ in response, nose brushing up the column of pretty boy’s long neck, lets his panting breathes tickle that spot behind the ear, knows it’s a sensitive place for him.

Seduction goes well with this color of red. He moves his hand from under Steve’s, travels the little distance to lightly rub at his hard-on.

Steve leans back into him, head turning searching out Billy’s mouth, pretty lips parted. They lean in closer warm breath combining, eyes connecting. Lips so close it almost feels like they are touching. They share a breathless realization, it sparks passing between their gaze. They kiss and the lipstick gets smudged, gets all messy. 

_“Shit”_ Steves says in one breath.

Billy echos, “ _Fuck.”_

Billy rubs lazily at Steve cock, contemplates their predicament as their lips hover so close to touching, eyes searching. After a second he lets his head fall forward, forehead coming to rest on Steve’s. Hand keeps working, can feel a damp spot, precome soaking through the sorry excuse for shorts. Pretty boy’s eyelashes flutter as Billy reaches in and takes hold of him, thumb brushing at his piss slit, spreading the leaking fluid, makes circular motions teasing the swollen head.

The lipstick has become a restraint, a leash, keeping them from kissing. Billy’s getting off on this and so is Steve. His monster of a cock trying to kick in Billy’s firm grip. He brings Steve out of his shorts and starts stroking, the other hand planted on his chest keeping him pressed close.

Billy watches as Steve’s eyelids become weighted with pleasure finally falling shut his head lulls back, body squirming, hips bucking. He meets Billy’s strong strokes. 

The mirror cuts them offbelow the chest, lower half of their bodies out of the frame. What is shown is enough. There wouldn’t be any guessing, a nun would know what Billy is doing to Steve.

Powerful, this makes Billy feel powerful. The control of neglecting his own need in exchange for working Steve up, the way he stares back at himself in the mirror, feels like a greek god or some shit, cut marble with makeup.

Steve Adam’s apples bobs as a moan breaks past his red lips. The sound of Billy’s hand making quick work becoming increasingly wet. He is squirming like he does when he’s about to come, the hand braced on the counter used for leverage, pushing him back into Billy, ass rubbing against thickness trapped behind tight denim.

Sweat shines on their skin. Billy moves his hand up Steve’s chest, up to cup his jaw in a firm grip. “Open your mouth for me.” He growls into Steve’s ear, pulls at his jaw. Steve shudders in Billy’s embrace. The kiss is licking wet. Tongues shameless. The smear of lipstick a texture. Steve pulses in Billy’s hard working hand, come coats his fingers, dribbling to the counter below. They moan and gasp together riding out Steve’s release.

The two of them break apart messy red mouths drawing in air. Steve’s motions are wobbly, come dumb. The white shag bathmat softening the blow for him when he falls to his knees in front of Billy. If Billy wasn’t so eager he might tease Steve a little bit, purposefully take his time freeing himself but right now he’d just be teasing himself as well and that not his style or flavor of fun.His cock springs free slapping his stomach is triumph. Steve is on him quick, mouths at Billy’s strained thickness tongue coming out to lick wet under the head before dropping down his length, lips spread wide. 

Getting Steve use to Billy’s cock in his throat has been one of their summertime activities. The heat making them restless and horny, it has been time well spent. He rocks, thickness stretching Steve’s throat.Billy isn’t lasting long, is going to shoot off like a firehose. One hand holds the back of Steve’s head while the other braces agains the counter. He leans into it. Woking himself into the tight, wet, heat.Steve holds firm to his ass, fingers digging into plumpness. His mouth is wet and warm, Billy fucks it. Alternating between fucking deep and fucking shallow, letting Steve take fuller breaths when needed.

Praise rumbles past his lips, to fill up the small room and accompany the wet sounds. “Just like that -gotten so good at taking it-”

Billy looks in the mirror it’s just him, shirt slipping off one shoulder, curls touching skin dampened by sweat, smear of red pushed up into his mustache and down to his chin. He lets his head tip back watches himself from under long lashes holds his own gaze until he can’t, eye rolling back in his head. His thrusts into Steve’s mouth becoming uncoordinated, thick head of his cock rubbing and pushing deep. Wet sounds filling the air and mixing with moan broken praise.

He goes over the edge, pulses out his release. Behinds his eyes stars getting hung in the sky. He is gone to it and then back. Thighs shaking, body humming he looks down to pretty boy who sits on his ass, slumped against the cupboard door, chest rising and falling under sweat soaked cotton as he catches his breath. The look in his eyes slightly glassy.

The cold shower they take afterwards cools their skin. They hold tight to each other the rest of the night, Billy doesn’t fight it.

The sound of a bird chirping wakes Billy. He throws his legs over the side of the bed, feet landing on plush carpet. Sits there, absentmindedly staring out the open window at the end of summer morning. Breeze moving the trees, sunlight dancing through swaying branches and green leaves. Sunlight bright, air cool having yet to warm up. 

He rubs at his bottom lip with finger tips, rubs at the memory of last night. He feels at ease in away he hasn’t for the last few weeks. There are more question about the lipstick and what it means to him but all of it is less daunting, feels less like it’s going to loose or have it cost him. He brings his hand back down to study it to see if there is any trace of red. His finger tips are clean. The attention he pays his finger tips is short lived, down on the carpet between his feet the spine of a thick book is peeking out from under the bed. Dark green with gold details draws him in. Knows Steve keeps his stash of titty magazines under there, collecting dust. Billy reaches for the book can only imagine where this is going to lead.

A dictionary? Call him surprised. What the hell is pretty boy doing with a dictionary stashed under his bed? He is no scholar. Billy gives a quick glance over his shoulder at the dark haired boy sleeping.

“ _Steve_?” Billy tests the waters. Nothing. Waits a second more and then, “Rise and shine?” Words sugar coated, overly sweet, amusing himself. 

The sheet rustle as he rolls over and away from Billy, mumbles out “Mmmm - no - not yet.” Pulls the sheet over is head. Disappears under blue.

Billy gives a tsk tsk in amusement. Turns his attention back to the dictionary in hand. It’s not the kind that school kids have, too big, heavy and hardbound, edges gilded. Must be Mr or Mrs. Harrington’s.

Standing from the bed he moves at a slow pace that matches the feel of the morning. In no rush he pulls on a pair of briefs he gets from the top drawer of Steve’s dresser. Goes to brush his teeth and take a leak, brings the lipstick with him. When he gets back Steve is still out cold.

Billy gathers his pack of smokes and lighter. He makes himself comfortable in the chair that is under the open window and across from the bed while lighting up. The filter stick to his lips and comes a way with a red rim. And there that new flavor of satisfaction goes rolling around in him, spreading head to toe.

Eyeing the bed, Steve hasn’t moved, sleeping form still covered, tuffs of wild hair peeking out from under the sheet. Makes Billy smile, makes him feel warm in away that is becoming less alien to him, easier to except. 

The book is heavy in Billy’s lap. He opens it up from the back, starts flipping through it, lazily turning pages, checking to see if anything is stuck between them, trying to find more of a context as to why this lug of a thing was shoved under the bed.

A dog eared page catches his attention, definitely Steve’s doing, notices there are a couple more. Takes a drag from his smoke while he runs his fingers down the page.

Submicron

Subminimum

Submission

Submissive

Submittable

His eyebrow raises at a couple of the more suggestive words, fingers keeps going until they have run over everyone one on the page. Brings his other hand up over head and ash his cigarette out the open window without having to look, joints popping from the stretch of the reached.

The next dog-eared page takes him to the _O_ s. Does the same thing, makes quick work of running over the words on this page too, fingers brushing text.

O - this

O -that

O -whatever

Obedience

Obedient

 _Oh_ , would you look at that, he’s found a match. His finger taps the word as a smug smile forms around the cigarette he has perched between his lips. Pretty boy’s been looking up dirty words. He strings the two words together, a little thrill tickling his spine, _Obedience and Submission._

A trail of unsavory bread crumbs leading back to his own actions and words from a few weeks prior, _I knew you’d be good for me, so pretty, so obedient._ Had praised Steve, enjoyed seeing how hot it got him, watched his pupils dilate and cock kick. Billy should have realized that there was more to it, the reaction so obvious. And then there was last night…

The sheet rustles. Billy’s eye flick up in the direction of the bed. Steve is moving like he does when he finally starts to wake up, limbs stretching to life, first his arms and then his legs moving under the sheet, working it down past his mole dotted shoulders.

There is one more marked page to go. Billy’s on the edge of his seat. Enjoying this little peek into Harrington’s mind, curious as to what it all actually means. Wonders if Steve knows. 

He turns his attention back to the book in his lap. Takes a hands free drag from the cigarette between his lips, is racing a waking Steve as he turns pages. Pages that cling together the closer he gets to the last dog-eared spot, something crusty keeping them stuck together, a colorlessly stain on the pages. Thumb brushes at the stain and he huffs out a laugh, smoke spills from his mouth. He knows exactly what it is. The porn magazines he keeps stashed in the trunk of the Camaro, Mandate and Playguy have the same stains. And isn’t this just something else, crusty come stains on a book like this. He pulls the pages apart, needs to know what the last word its, doesn’t care if they tear.

Ash drifts onto the words below.He is looking at a page of words starting with, _D._ He takes one more deep drag, pulling nicotine in. __

Don’t stop

Don’t stop

Don’t stop

Smoke comes billowing out of his mouth on the exhale.

There it is _Dominance and Dominate._

Billy’s feels like the cat who caught the canary. Feels pleased with himself. That feeling mixing nicely with the arousal that the discovery has brought on. Steve’s been a bad boy and Billy just caught him.

Steve shuffles up into a sitting position, hair wild and eyes squinting in the light of the day. Technically he is awake but Billy knows he is fairly useless first thing in the morning. He is already enjoying this. Waits for pretty boy to catch up and catch on. “Morning.” He purrs out.

“Um- wait - what are you doing?”The words come out slow as Steve moves to the edge of the bed, sheet pulling back, the corner of it just keeping his lap covered. Billy watches the gears speeding up in pretty boy’s head as he eyes him once over and then does a double take. With one hand he pulls at the sheet trying to cover himself more while he points with the other to the book in Billy’s lap, eyes wide, mouth opens.

A smile dances on Billy’s red lips, before Steve can says anything he asks, “Did you get your come on the pages?”

Embarrassment tints his cheeks. He runs a hand through his hair, rocks forward on the edge of the bed like he might make a move but instead makes a demand as something close to anger flashes through his eyes, “Listen, give me the dictionary, man.”

Billy scoffs, smile growing, reaching ear to ear. Flicks the cigarette butt out the window as he stands.

He walks over to the bed, looms over Steve. Their eyes lock before he looks down to the book in hand and pets the spine of it, shakes his head in fake disappointment before biting his lip and looking back up, mock sincerity in his eyes, “What would your daddy think, Getting your jizz all over. Thank goodness you didn’t find his Thesaurus. That would have been a real mess, wouldn’t it have?”

Steve is looking up at him, Billy watches with interest catching the mixture of emotion passing across his pretty face, the embarrassment turns hot, arousal- maybe, shame melding into angry, disbelief and then finally an emotion that looks too close to betrayal.

The thrill from before dies a quick death. Smile fading from Billy’s lips, eyes catching the way Steve’s hands have turned to fists, clutching the bedding. The room is quiet.

Betrayal. Last night comes back to him. If Steve was anyone else he could have ripped him apart. Gloated, armed with the knowledge that Billy has an affinity for lipstick.

This is Steve’s lipstick. For lack of a better way of explaining it. That must be what the other boy is feeling and Billy is rubbing his nose in it. “No one ever said I wasn’t an asshole.” Billy says to himself more than to Steve. 

Steve abruptly stands from the bed makes like he is going to plow through Billy and go where or do what, he has no idea. Billy doesn’t move, catches Steve around the waits, gets pushed a step back as they collide. He holds his tight, put his lips to the other boy’s ear remembering the conversations from the car, what Steve had said to him last night, he says, “ Fucking talk to me, Harrington. I’m right here.”

The dictionary hits the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like feel free to leave comment. I always appreciate them.


	3. Two Halves to Make a Whole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi y'all! 
> 
> It took me awhile to finish this because I was a little uncertain about it. Please enjoy, mind the tags, and feedback is always welcomed. 
> 
> .... ugh, so nervous, there is so much smut. I'm blushing.
> 
> ... ... tags, check the tags.

_Stay._

The dictionary’s definition of the word is clinical. It’s not even worth noting. There is no imagination behind. Unimpressed, Billy throws the tattered, red, paperback on the floor. It lands with a thud.

He stocks around his room while dragging on a smoke. Anticipation hums under his skin. He knows what he is doing tonight, has know all day, but the sight of his worn dictionary laying forgot on the poorly painted build in shelves made his mind circle back around to Steve.

The definition must of been written by some lucky asshole who has never been left by anyone in his entire life. In Billy’s book of definitions, defined by hard knocks, _stay_ means; _don’t go, don’t leave me, don’t make me hate you, I fucking hate you._

Maybe he’s chickenshit? Use to prided himself on his detached coldness that was homegrown. Steve and him got together eight months ago. Billy knows because it’s what he sees when he looks at a calendar. Time relates back to the two them. When he looks at a calendar he says a silent prayer to a god he doesn’t fucking believe in except when it’s to his advantage too, that if Harrington and him get one more day, one more week, he might stop waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Him and Harrington are a real thing, but his mom was a real thing, and she up and left. It didn’t mattered that he begged her to _stay_. He hates her probably because there is still that snot nosed kid inside of him that didn’t want her to go.

The bedroom is thrown into shadows when Billy turns the overhead light off, giving the room over to the light from the single lamp in the far corner, by the mirror. He does’t mind the moody lighting. He reaches to lock the door. Neil is away on business for the week, Maxine is at the movies with her dipshit gang, and Susan? Who the fuck knows what she is up to. Doesn’t matter that the house is empty, he stills needs his bedroom door locked.

The click of the lock is loud is a room that is almost never quiet. The volume on his tape player turned down, making it easier to hear if anyone unexpectedly comes home. 

Billy understands that in his own way, Steve has been abandoned too, that old man Harrington is a shit father. Not all father’s leave their marks with fists. Disinterest and absence can be just as scaring. As for Joan, she is polite, sometimes caring, but can be as distant as the North Pole. It’s hard to predict when she will drift away again. 

Billy snuffs out his cigarette in the old coffee mug turned ashtray he keeps on the top of his dresser. For as shitty as he is feeling the little up kick of anticipation that comes with unearthing the tube of lipstick from the depths of his underwear and stock drawer is hard to ignore. The thing is no bigger than his pointer finger but it carries as much wight as his fifty pound dumbbells. It rounds him out like his muscles do, adding definition to who he is.

There is a flash of a memory; home alone, the metal fan rattling as it blew air around his parents’ bedroom. The popsicle he has in his hand was grape, his lips were stained purple. He would do that, paint his mouth with icy cold sugar, only stopped when he got caught. The backhanded slap from his dad deadening the childhood impulse.

 _Stay._ To pretty boy, that word must be like looking into the abyss. An endless definition; don’t go, be good, get hard, confusion, arousal, obedience… 

The vanity in Joan Harrington’s room left an impression on Billy. Pristine, organized, and expensive. It’s a level he can’t reach but he has done his best to work with what he has, to make his own space feel less sloppy. Now he keeps it clear of clutter, half empty bottles of cologne are lined up, hair products behind them, labels all facing out. It is a poor man’s shrine of inexpensive treasures. He set the green tube of lipstick front and center, appreciates the sound it makes as it connects with the wooden surface.

He showered this evening but didn’t shave, likes the contrast of the lipstick with his stubble. He admires himself in the mirror as he lights another cigarette up. It’s easy to do, briefs and black midriff don’t leave much to the imagination. He prides himself on his body, on his looks.

Smoking helps to ease some of the tension he has been carrying for the last few days. He runs his hands through damp curls, getting them to do what he wants, adds the product he needs to make that happen. He gives his reflection a half hearted wink that leave him feeling empty.

Billy works on checks and balances, not that Steve thinks that way. Will do you a good turn and not expect anything back, still Billy owes Steve, can’t not. No good deed goes unpunished. 

The conversation, the one they had in pretty boy’s bedroom after Billy had found the dictionary, only filled in so many blanks. Billy is in no place to judge. He gets it. To want something and not fully understand that want, and where it comes from. Steve could have thrown Becky’s stolen lipstick in his face but instead he painted his own mouth in red. With Billy’s temper, that he is just starting to learn how to curve, it could have ended badly for Steve.

Selfless and brave, and for some messed up reason he wants Billy. There was a point, in the beginning when Billy tried to warn Steve off. Only, Billy has poor self-control, and he would go forgetting his own warning. Would forget it even before they started to kiss, would forget it with one longing look form Steve’s dark eyes. Moth to flame. 

The small, gold hoop Billy has on is for daily wear, can’t have the longer danger earring on while teaching pool brats how to swim. It would get pulled out. He changes earrings. Gives his head a couple quick movements to watch and feel how dagger earring sways. Pleasure peaks out from the blue of Billy’s eyes, a smile pulls a the corner of his unpainted mouth.

He reaches for the lipstick.

A goddam vision if there ever was one. Curls all perfect, lips all painted, dagger earring shining. Billy saddles up closer to the mirror, shins knocking into the wooden crate it is propped up on. He leans forward to kiss his own reflection, red lips leaving their mark on cool glass. He moves back across the worn rug to give a show, turning to catch the light, admiring the angles of his face and body. Flirts with an imaginary audience, kept behind the glass.

The imaginary audience is Steve. Thinks about how the dark haired boy would fall all over himself for Billy done up like this. Would be eager to pleasure, do anything…

Devilish inspiration hits, flows warm through his veins in a rush. Billy tips his head back to cackle at it. Pleased with himself. He tastes the same thrill that came with discovering the dictionary, and all those marked pages, and what they added up to.

 _I don’t want you getting any grand idea, Hargrove. Or for this to go to your head, alright?_ Steve’s words after he had admitted to Billy that he had more than a passing interest in being told what to do in the bedroom.

Tension ripples out of Billy’s limbs as pull the phone off the nightstand by his bed, the little bell inside that makes the ringing noise dinging with the movement. The cord is long enough to set the whole thing down on the wooden crate next to the the mirror.

With his free hand Billy messes with his curls, eyeing himself in the mirror. The phone is ringing in his ear. He pulls the cigarette out of his mouth as soon as there is the clicking sound of someone answering coming through on the other end.

“Hello, this is the Harrington resident. Joan speaking.” 

The same flirting smile he would give her in person appears on his face. “Mrs. Harrington. This is Billy. I’m - a - so sorry to be calling during dinner time but is Steve free to come to the phone for a moment?” Red lips form the smooth words with ease. Memorized Billy watches himself in this moment.

“Hello, Billy.” Her reserved voice is warm with recognization. “It’s no trouble we just finished. Let me go get him for you.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Harrington.”

The wait is short.

“Hargrove?” Steve’s voice sounds tense. In the time they’ve been dating, Billy has called Steve’s house only one other time. He can use Steve’s tension, can curl it around his little finger.

There is a breath of hesitation, Billy’s reflection spurs him on, daring him to cross the line, telling him not to be a pussy. Maybe this isn’t what Steve had meant but there is that old saying, you never know if you don’t try. Billy is willing to give it the old college try. “Did you play with yourself today, pretty boy?”

W- wait- what?”

“You heard me.” Breath hot against the receiver, his voice it rough, does’t leave any room for questioning. Billy is in control. Red lipped dominance seeking out Steve’s fumbling submission.

~~~~~~

Steve is tangled in a t-shirt, arms caught above his head when he hears the door bell ring. Shit. The stitching gives at the collar, a little ripping noise fills his ears as he finishes pulling the shirt on. He is not sure how dressed he is suppose to be. Billy and him hadn’t covered that in the phone conversation from last night. Not that it had been much of a conversation, mostly Billy firing off orders at him, voice demanding and controlled, tone even. 

The lack of conversation had left Steve with a hard-on throbbing in his pants. Aching for release he wasn’t allowed to have. He likes not being allowed to have it, if he is being honest, or maybe that Billy care enough to not want him to have it. Jeez, how does that even make sense. That being denied something is equal to caring. 

_I wan’t you all riled up, ready to go._

His mom had been in the kitchen, balancing her checkbook and finishing her glass of wine while he had been on the phone with Billy. Steve had kept his back to her, tried to make his answers to Billy’s dirty questions as discreet as possible, until he couldn’t. Offering to wash her wine glass with the rest of the the dinner dishes had been his only way to get her out of the kitchen. On the other end of the line Billy had cackled. _Getting a hard-on while your mom is in the room, Jesus, Harrington._

 _I’m going to ruin you, pretty boy,_ was the promise Billy had ended the conversation with.

Steve had stammered his way through the explanation of the dictionary, and all the words he had looked up. And yeah - he had gotten turned on by the definitions and the glimpse they gave into what he thinks he might want. The questions Billy had asked during had been unapologetically direct but then that was just Billy being - Billy. If anything, Hargrove is not - not an asshole. Steve still gets cut by his hard edges even knowing that, but never deep enough to stay away or call it quits.

It doesn’t matter, what Steve is wearing, not now that Hargrove is standing in his doorway looking like sin clad in a leather jacket, and those leather fingerless gloves Steve remembers from Halloween, their first meeting. Heat floods his body rising to set fever to his brain, making him feel more than a little dumb. 

The blonde as good as prowls into the entryway, hand pressing into the center of Steve’s chest backing him up as he pushes forward into the room. Billy feels sharp, like a knife about to make a cut. Blue eyes are daggers, sexy painted red lips curling at the corner, a smiling predator ready to pounce. The whole thing makes Steve’s cock ache in aroused anticipation. Body tingling. The floor doesn’t feel like it is under his feet.

It’s early afternoon, Steve’s bedroom is filled with natural light. The bed is unmade, the sheet, blankets, and pillows are pilled in the center. Steve feels like he is a kid that’s about to get scolded for being messy. Steve waits for Hargrove to say something, anything because he is unusually quiet. Scratch that, he is purposefully quiet, the silence stretching out is a being used against Steve. Shit.

Billy tosses a slightly disinterested look at Steve from over his shoulder, eyeing him up and down. The disinterest has to be for show, but it still does something for Steve. With gloved hands he reaches for a pillow, takes his time dragging it off of the bed. A red smirk answers a confused furrowed brow. Billy holds the pillow up for Steve to eye. He shrugs at. His brain is having a tug of war of thoughts, usually he’s not all that thrilled to give Hargrove the upper hand, but this is different.

Hargrove is eating up his confusion, Steve knows it. “ So… what is this? Nap time?” He questions, nerves making him speak.

At the foot of the bed Billy rounds Steve, forcing him to pivot in place, turn a small half circle to follow. Their positions in the room change, Billy stands with his back to the windows and Steve with his back to the closed bedroom door, making him feel like a guest in his own room. This room that’s been his since he was eight isn’t his anymore, it’s Billy’s.

The pillow hits the floor with a soft sound. It land in a heap between them, Steve looks down at it, and then back up at Billy, who has back up to the desk. He reaches behind him to pull the chair out from the desk without having to look. The, _I know more than you do,_ self-satisfied smirk is fixed on his.

“Hump it.” Billy commends, words cold as ice, sending a shiver down Steve’s spine. 

There is a suspended heartbeat before the meaning of the words connect with Steve’s brain. He knows he looks fully confused, but he can’t help the expression on his face. His mouth moves like a fish, soundlessly opening and closing.

Billy scoffs,licks over his teeth, “Take your clothes off, and hump the goddam pillow, Harrington.” 

The t-shirt has been on for less than five minutes before Steve is pulling it back over his head. He should have know better than to get dressed, would have been better off answering the door naked. Undressing in front of Billy has never felt like this, all those times in the locker room at school, when his eyes would linger a fraction of a second too long never made Steve feel this naked.

Naked, he drops to his knees, pillow between them. For his aching hot cock to touch the cool fabric he has to fall forward and spreed his legs farther apart lowing himself down. The carpet feels rough on the palms of his hands and keens, the fabric he touches his cock to is a high thread count, that’s been washed more times than he can count. He knows what the soft fabric feels like against his skin. Has laid in bed, pushed his briefs down, and half awake has rutted into his mattress seeking lazy pleasure in the morning. But that, sure as hell isn’t this. 

The position is dirty, on all four, the tilt of his hips push his cock down to the pillow, pops his ass in the air, like he is asking to be be fucked. Steve hangs his head, not ready to look at Billy yet. He rocks forward, pushing his rock hard cock over the pillow and then pulls back, dragging it. The sensation is teasing, barely noticeable over the buzzing embarrassment.

“Look at me.”Billy's commanding voice combines with the snap of his fingers, he is domineering. He sits, legs spread wide, giving his own hard-on space to grow in his tight jeans. His stare is unforgiving, doesn’t leave Steve as he places an unlit cigarette between his lips and brings the lighter up.

Steve gives a little nod of his head. The sight of Billy spurs his rocking hips on, pace picking up. He wants to be - good - for Billy.That want spreads his legs even farther a part, hips groan and thighs stretch tight.Uncertainty curls in his belly, chasing the pleasure that rubbing his cock against the pillow brings.

Words fall out of his mouth, past the moan he is choking on, “ I - I - I - don’t know what I’m doing, alright?”This stupid thing called logic is telling him that no one would like what he is doing, it’s ugly, that it is wrong, but his body and brain are fight that logic, leaving him out at sea. A drift.

With easy limbs Billy leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. The change in position brings him closer to Steve, almost puts them eye to eye, almost. That little bit that Steve still has to look up is as good as a voiceless command.It sparks pleasure. Billy stares him hard in the eyes while he takes a drag from his cigarette, searching.

With a firm grip he takes Steve’s jaw in hand, fingertips pressing into flesh, finding the bone underneath. The smoke slipping back out pass his parted red lips make Steve’s balls ache. The image is erotic. Billy huffs out a breath in amusement like he can read Steve’s thoughts. Voice loaded with gravel he makes a demand of Steve, “Hump - it - like - you - mean - it.”

_Oh god._

Billy doesn’t let go of his jaw, holds tight, keeping Steve’s head in place while his hips start really working, pace picking up, cock rubbing back and forth, back and forth. The sensitive underside of his hard-on runs over precome wet fabric. He is leaking. Billy’s steady gaze is making him leak, his blue eyes are ruthless as he takes in the show Steve’ is putting on.

There is no way to look down, to see between his legs, to watch, not with the way Billy’s got a hold on him. Steve might not be able to looks down but Billy is taking full advantage. Eyes ravaging him, one eyebrow raising wordlessly, telling Steve, that Billy is taking him in like he is some sort of anomaly.

The lack of sight, amplifies the noise. The sounds of his panting breath, and his cock’s relentlessly rubbing over the pillow between his legs as he humps it fill his ears. He closes his eyes, leans into it, works his hips like an over eager animal in spring, fingernails digging into the carpet. 

The sound of Billy sneering makes Steve open is eyes again, “That’s more like it.”He says just as pushes Steve’s away, goes back leaning in the chair. Brings the cigarette he has pinched between his fingers up to his lips to take a drag. The hand that held firm to Steve’s jaw pops the top button of his jeans. “Are you loose enough for me to fuck?” Billy questions, pupils blown out.

Steve’s hands leave the floor and take a firm hold of the pillow, pushing it to his crotch, rubbing himself with it while rutting up into it, insides drawing tight, body tingling. “Jesus, - fuck. Yes, I did - in the shower.” He is sweating, damp hair has fallen into his eyes. Over the phone Billy had made it know that he expected Steve to finger himself open before he showed up. That had been the dirtier parts of last night’s phone call, one of the demands that he had to submit too.

Billy licks over his teeth, smile playing over his painted lips. Without getting up he pulls the chair forward, getting himself closer to Steve, and then makes a show of bringing out a bottle of lube from the concealed inside pocket of his leather jacket.

The bottle of lube, Billy holds up for Steve to see is a quarter of the way full. Billy gives the bottle a little shake, the liquid goes slopping back and forth before Steve’s eyes. His spine prickles, knowing the other boy is up to something, he licks his lips, and clears his throat. “You trying to make a point, Hargrove?” The bravado he was hoping his voice would have, falls flat, King Steve is on his hands and knees. The rug burn he knows he will have is going to be a friendly reminder of Billy’s dominance for days to come.

Billy leans all the way in, its startles Steve, making his hips rock out of time as he jerks back. Billy’s nose brushes along his jaw and up to his ear, the enjoyment he is getting out of this, rolls out of him in a purr, “You’re going to be nice and wet for me, Steve.”He can feel the ghosting transfers of lipstick on the hinge of his jaw as the words are spoken, just a brush a red.

Billy stands, Steve’s cranes his neck back to follow him on his way up. He drops the cigarette butt in a glass of water on Steve’s desk, it goes out with a hiss. With a smug gaze Billy looks down on him while he unzips his jeans, pulls the zipper down purposefully slow, Steve ruts out his need on the pillow harder and faster. Insides aching with anticipation. Penetration, Steve loves it. Being filled up helps to quench a need he didn’t know he had, but was always there. Maybe the want to be dominant goes hand in hand with that need, two parts of a whole.

The bottle is kept in front of Steve’sface, with one hand Billy unscrews the cap, thumb doing the work until the hard plastic top falls to the floor. Steve’s mind answers his unformed question, Billy took the whole cap off because he is going to use - - all of the lube. Oh, Jesus.

“ _Stay_.”

Steve does as he is told, hips slowing, brain buzzing. _Stay,_ Steve’s mind whirls around the word, his head hangs heavy. The word fills a void and opens a door.

Billy moves around him. Steve can hear him settling on the floor behind him, knees making a soft thudding sound as they make contact with the floor. 

Steve’s mind doesn’t get to tumble very far, before two wet fingers push all the way into his self-prepped hole. The intrusion is demanding, it bites sharp, making pleasure flare up, and spread out to all four of his limbs. Billy makes a noise of approval, Steve answers back with a low throaty moan. Thick fingers work in and out, the sensation is good - is so good, but not enough. Steve wants to be lit up. Billy gives a few more testing pumps, alternates to scissoring his fingers, is like a doctor examining a patient. The hum he makes while doing it is just as clinical. 

Satisfied Billy pulls out, but only so far, keeps two fingertips hooked to Steve’s puffy rim. The fingers pull up on his rim to keep his hole from closing. It’s filthy, but it gets filthier, something is pushing into Steve. That something is hard - foreign - wet- “ _Oh god - oh god - oh okay,_ ” Steve’s mind stumbles over the realization, the uncapped bottle of lube is being pushed inside of him, Billy is holding him open for it.

Steve’s body is bowing at the weight of how dirty this is, how much he wants it this way, to have Billy want to use him like this. Noises pass through his throat like it is as rough as sandpaper. He licks his lips, trying to wet his mouth, panting breaths having dried it out. The last of the bottle is being emptied inside of him. Aroused, his muscles spasm tight. 

There is no need to question if he is right, a second later the empty bottle lands on the floor next to his hand. Billy’s strong hands smooth over his ass, and come to give a formal tug on his hips, “No slouching.” He orders, voices hazy, and rough, just loud enough for Steve to hear over the blood rushing in his ears.

Steve is wet and sloppy for the fuck. Worked into perfect obedience. On his hands a knees like a good boy who is more than ready to do bad things. Panting, hair a mess, chapped lips threatening to split from the amount that he has been licking over them. His body is a display like a show dog waiting to be judged or shown to his stud.

Billy appraises him with his hands like he is just that, on show. Palms covered in smooth leather, and bare, scolding hot fingertips run up Steve’s sides, and then back down to his ass. One hand grabs the meet of a cheek, and pulls so the other can thumb at his entrance. Steve’s hole is wet, Billy’s thumb rubs over it with slippery ease, pushing in just to tease, not to breach.

“I’ll be good.” The thumb rubbing at Steve’s rim pauses, so does the barely there motion of his own rocking hips. His breathless words surprising himself just as much as Billy. Steve says his own words again repeats what he understands is permission given in code, words his mind thoughtless offered up to his mouth because deep down he knows Billy understands him, “I’ll be good for you.”

For the breach, and first dozen testing thrust, the size of Billy’s cock always makes Steve feel like his hole, no matter how opened, is one size too small. With his insides filled with lube, it’s no different this time, just excessively wet. As Billy works to slide himself in, warm slickness dribbles out, and down Steve’s taint to his balls. “ _Fuck,_ that’s dirty, pretty boy. _”_ Billy chastises him.

All Steve can do is stammer out a combination of noises that don’t amount to any actually words, warm erotic shame making him shake on all fours.

It is, sloppy and wet.

For as dirty as this act is, it is also intimate, the way Billy is fucking into him, the way Steve lets him. Hard hitting thrusts breaking their bodies. The hands that had held Steve’s hips in dominance, move to pull him closer, hold him tighter. Billy’s clothed chest presses to Steve’s naked back. Steve spreads his legs, like a good boy, helping to get Billy deeper inside of him. The thrusts changing from long drawn out ones that end with being slammed back into, too short and pounding ones. The shift of Billy’s hips lands his pounding thrusts on Steve’s prostate. His sweet spot.

The thrusts push Steve’s cock into the pre-come damp pillow still trapped between his thighs. More pre dribbles down to it as his cock bobs in time with Billy fucking him. 

Steve’s withers and struggles, the bursts of pleasure over lap. With the way Billy is moving inside of him there is no way for one burst to fade out before the other starts. “Oh - my - god.” He needs to come, vision going fuzzy as his abdomen muscles pulls tight, wet insides starting to flutter around the thickness pushed deep in his ass.

“Get a hand on yourself.” Billy pants into his ear, breath warm, words hot. Billy chases Steve as he topples forward, can’t hold himself up, body bowing under the pressure of Billy’s weight, and the scorching pleasure of their bodies working together.

Strong hands hold him to the floor by his shoulders. Pinned down his ass is raised as high in the air as wide spread legs will let it go, balls and thighs are wet with the lube Billy is fucking out of him. The sound is wet, wet, wet.

The carpet rubs rough on his flushed check, hand on his swollen cock moving in time with the pounding Billy is giving to him, slick precome easing its way. On the edge, his mind dances with the thought of rug burned knees, how they will sting, how Billy, still clothed won’t have them. Dominance and Submission. Steve stroke himself harder, faster.

High on pleasure he goes over the edge coming in spirts. Billy follows him over, thick and pulsing inside of him.

For a second he is gone, floating. Sticky lips pressed hard to his shoulder bring him back down. The kisses delivered with panting breaths move from his shoulder to his neck, filling Steve with a different warmth while the room comes back into focus. 

Not too gently he is being rolled over, the come covered pillow pushing into his lower back, limbs flopping boneless on the floor. His is a mess, to the point of almost being gross. Lube, sweat, and come. 

Billy straddles Steve’s hips, fingertips running thorough the sweat and come smeared on his taunt belly. Breathing hard he looks into Steve’s eyes, “Well, well, well, aren’t you a naughty boy? Getting your come all over.” The words are playfully sharp, delivered with warmth, the warmth reaches the blue of Billy’s eyes, and tugs at the corner of his mouth. The red is faded, slightly smeared. The lipstick is control, like the leatherjacket, and perfect curls. The curated Billy Hargrove,- only no one else gets to see him like Steve does.

Being called a, naughty boy is filthy, and a hundred times better than being praised as a good boy. A stupid smile spreads across his face, one corner of his mouth tugging higher than the other.

Billy laughs at him, eating up his satisfied state. Hungry for more. 

In the best possible way, Steve is so totally screwed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Give a shout out if you enjoyed it.


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